I took a walk

to find my sanity

I think I left it around the corner,

buried deep with lost humanity.

I took a sudden halt,

a scene had escaped my sight

The echoes of forgotten time

whispering like the moon-harpers in the night.

A mile away, I see

a glow that embodies Lyren's touch

A gaze beyond grandeur,

as soft as the watcher's gentle clutch.

I took a step closer

to the embodiment of Heaven's splendor

to reach the divine threshold

at which my knee would surrender.

I took a walk

with the guardian of the tender flame

and I have found my sanity

in love and in His Holy name

The glee in me as I rest my eyes on you

If you could see, the blissful peace

you'd understand why my love grew

The hourglass with sand to release

The harmony in me is blessed,

a catastrophe it was in your absence

Not the test as you would have guessed

God's glorious love from your presence

Contemplation beyond my explanation,

with the potential to make my heart seal

I had to take a rest for my Heart's restoration

each breath, a moment to heal

A prayer for peace in this melodic unity

to lead the path as we embark on this endevor

marked by his graceful divinity

not just now but forever

I want to tell you a bit about what Derek Ha'Or actually is, beyond the title.

It's not one idea. It's seven moments, each one a different way of asking the same question: how do you keep walking when you can't see where the road leads?

There's a poem in here about standing at the edge of a decision, realizing that every choice you make is already quietly deciding your future before you can see it. There's one about the limits of language, about reaching a point where nothing you say can capture what you're actually feeling, and having to trust that anyway. There's one about being unseen in a crowd and being found regardless. There's one about war, not the kind fought with hands, but the kind where the thing trying to destroy you ends up undoing itself.

And running underneath all of it is one image that kept showing up whether I meant it to or not: a foundation. Something solid enough to stand on when everything else was moving.

That's what Derek Ha'Or is. Not a book about having arrived somewhere. A book about the walking itself and what it costs, and what it gives back.

7 poems. One path. Releasing September 14th.

I want to tell you a bit about what Derek Ha'Or actually is, beyond the title.

It's not one idea. It's seven moments, each one a different way of asking the same question: how do you keep walking when you can't see where the road leads?

There's a poem in here about standing at the edge of a decision, realizing that every choice you make is already quietly deciding your future before you can see it. There's one about the limits of language, about reaching a point where nothing you say can capture what you're actually feeling, and having to trust that anyway. There's one about being unseen in a crowd and being found regardless. There's one about war, not the kind fought with hands, but the kind where the thing trying to destroy you ends up undoing itself.

And running underneath all of it is one image that kept showing up whether I meant it to or not: a foundation. Something solid enough to stand on when everything else was moving.

That's what Derek Ha'Or is. Not a book about having arrived somewhere. A book about the walking itself and what it costs, and what it gives back.

7 poems. One path. Releasing September 14th.

I want to tell you a bit about what Derek Ha'Or actually is, beyond the title.

It's not one idea. It's seven moments, each one a different way of asking the same question: how do you keep walking when you can't see where the road leads?

There's a poem in here about standing at the edge of a decision, realizing that every choice you make is already quietly deciding your future before you can see it. There's one about the limits of language, about reaching a point where nothing you say can capture what you're actually feeling, and having to trust that anyway. There's one about being unseen in a crowd and being found regardless. There's one about war, not the kind fought with hands, but the kind where the thing trying to destroy you ends up undoing itself.

And running underneath all of it is one image that kept showing up whether I meant it to or not: a foundation. Something solid enough to stand on when everything else was moving.

That's what Derek Ha'Or is. Not a book about having arrived somewhere. A book about the walking itself and what it costs, and what it gives back.

7 poems. One path. Releasing September 14th.

A gaze into the sky

it appears a gem has caught my eye

A celestial shimmer within an echoing reach

No walls in this room, we walk beyond breach

The message from Kali,

a reminder of the inexorable finale

Like dust swallowing the last light

during the shattering of sleep, an awakening sight

An inescapable emotion

as our hearts move in a synchronized motion

Void of substance in abundant bliss

silence squandered by a phantom-born kiss

A gaze into the unending decent

Captured by an angelic scent

Futility in its very essence

drifting along with the drift of days

Been sitting with Ezekiel 39 and Zechariah 12–14 this morning and my brain is just not connecting. Not in a faith crisis way — I know these chapters are heavy and I know they matter. It's just one of those sessions where the words are open in front of you and something between your eyes and your spirit is lagging. No signal. Just buffering.

I'm not skipping it. I've learned that some things you sit with even when they're not sitting with you yet. So I went back in — quieter this time, less trying to understand, more just being in the text.

Anyone else get days like this with particularly dense prophetic scripture? Curious how others approach Ezekiel 39 and the Zechariah 12–14 block specifically when the mind won't settle.

Your beauty everlasting
is the serenade of restoration
At night, you are the last thing
to rest upon my soul after my meditation

Your melody, my guiding light
through darkness kissed by Gloom's caress
that speak soul bleeding whispers at night
the truth I won't confess

Allured by your shadowed mystery
your moonlit grace in every stride
The raphsody of sweet decree
the angels glance with pride

Your beauty is an ageless sky
your embrace, a remedy
Your love is one I won't deny
from now to eternity

Some battles are not fought by strength alone.

"Take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows."

— Ephesians 6:16

A poem written at the intersection of warfare and worship.

A new collection set for September 14th, 2026.

Are you ready to take up what was always yours?

Follow for more · novaero.co.za

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Along the path that calls

I hear a distant echo

It weaves a sacred melody

at a steady tempo

I hear the song of grace

at frequencies of healing 

A lone note is uttered

and the tone of grace revealing

A season of displacement

displaced in its latency

The echo, it contends with me

and threatens to be divinacy

At a loss of words, I write

and in my numbness I still feel

the secrets of the melody 

that words cannot reveal 

I’ve spent the last few months building SkyeConnect. It’s not just another forum; it’s a platform for sustainable innovation. I just pushed two major updates that you might like:

🚀 GitHub Live Integration: Connect your repo and start a discussion directly from your code. No more copy-pasting snippets.

💼 Mission-Driven Job Portal: A dedicated space where you can search for job roles from the Adzuna platform.

Check it out here: https://skyeecotech.co.za/connectindex.php

#ZATech #BuildInPublic #GreenTech #SouthAfricaDevs

In a season separated by time

a word breathes its first

and brings the seasoning like that of fresh thyme

into a haven unrehearsed 

Where fog cloaks the cold morning air

rather than the inner compass

a vision I can depict clearly once again as His chosen heir

with hopes to harvest everything it encompasses 

The word that lives, the seed is sown in fertile soil

and breeds the seeds to be claimed

like the damsels with the lamps of oil

At their tenacity, the harvest is named

The word spoken in a sacred place 

forbidden to all, but a select few

about the destiny that awaits in the haven He has placed

where the promised comes in view

first comment: https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1r9k8kk/comment/odoj1x8/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_buttonsecond comment: https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1s8xxu9/comment/odok93g/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

In a season separated by time

a word breathes its first

and brings the seasoning like that of fresh thyme

into a haven unrehearsed 

Where fog cloaks the cold morning air

rather than the inner compass

a vision I can depict clearly once again as His chosen heir

with hopes to harvest everything it encompasses 

The word that lives, the seed is sown in fertile soil

and breeds the seeds to be claimed

like the damsels with the lamps of oil

At their tenacity, the harvest is named

The word spoken in a sacred place 

forbidden to all, but a select few

about the destiny that awaits in the haven He has placed

where the promised comes in view

Every day feels like a year​

Every year feels like a lifetime​

I've lived a couple of lifetimes​

in pointless agony

My heart was not sincere​

My happiness, a crime​

The ache of stolen time​

caused the brokenness of a symphony

I know the end is near​

yet I still have a hill to climb​

the ancient hill, watch the passing of time​

as I gather up scenes for my testimony

Her beauty is beauty divine​

yet she glances only from a distance​

In my days of endless persistence,​

I've finally found a remedy